The season closed, it was time to go fishing.
Yeah nah, not some rule taken from the West Coast Law Amendment Act of 1864 but the fact remains Brunner’s waters can be fished right through to the end of September. Some trout haven’t bothered to go chasing their girlfriends up the rivers but stay happily single, in the lake.
Omens seemed good, with fine conditions, no wind and the promise of a great day. Managed to get the dogs inside while I opened the gate to let out the Osprey, as they both get excited when it comes out. The Scottie girl snarls and tries to read the writing on the tyres, while our Jack Russell boy dances around and barks. Nice early morning din for the neighbours.
Once on the road, the blinding sunrise meant visor down and sunnies up. Turning into the Arnold Valley, fog steadily increased until I couldn’t see the truck travelling ahead of me so “back off” was the response. It lightened a bit further up then came in again but lakeside it was clear and calm. Lovely!
On round to Cashmere Bay where a rude surprise awaited as the ramp was closed for repairs. I didn’t get that memo, so went along to another likely place to launch but boulders blocked access. While it’s good the launching facility is getting work, you’d think the signage right at the ramp would be better back, where it would avoid the public inconvenience of driving all the way there, wasting fuel and ‘polluting the atmosphere’ to find it closed.
Turned around and headed back almost 10 kilometres to Moana, with my now dun-coloured liver and muttering like Mr Magoo. The parking fee at Moana is north of 10 dollars, so I elected to use the Yacht Club ramp, preferring to help their coffers rather than further fund the District Council – given them quite enough of my money these past 40 years.
Bung in, boat in, me in and the Yarmy fired first time, the day proper had finally begun. Had a prospect along the margins east of the clubrooms but saw nothing, then ventured into another area that had been good in the past but again saw nothing. There was a sense of deja vu, a replay of earlier days during the drought when we were skunked?
An earlier mentor’s words wafted back into the grey matter, “If you’re not seeing fish, move. They’ll only be where the food is.”
Onward and upward to another spot, where I scared a fish witless as it headed out to deeper water. Ah, there are fish here, then suddenly bang, a thudding weight and it was fish on, OFF! It was that quick but it seemed to be a location with finny creatures, so I hovered about and managed a strategic mid-lake release of another one. Lunch was taken in a sunlit cove with views of familiar mountains, forest, the expanse of the largest lake on the Coast and not another boat in sight. It was so good I felt the need to photographically document the scene, then flick it to a mate who likes to do similar things on his work journeys up and down our wondrous region. We title our images, “Today’s Office.” You get the idea.
Later, as we gathered to put the world to rights, he said, “It looks like you had a very good day out there.”
Yep, got it in one.
